


An Exchange Of Hearts

by angelboygabriel



Category: Hannibal - Fandom
Genre: After the Fall, It’s Still Beautiful, M/M, Murder Husbands in Cuba, dark!Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 02:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15832104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelboygabriel/pseuds/angelboygabriel
Summary: The wind tousled Will’s hair and he squinted at where Hannibal stood in the doorway, dropping his hands to his sides. He looked a little wild.“The rain pours and the sailor drinks from the mouth of the beast.” Will called.





	An Exchange Of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> The italics-normal alternating sections show a comparison of the past vs. present.
> 
> Snapshot fic gift for Nat.

_Atlantic waves beat and churned at the base of the cliff_

 

The blanket rippled and twisted beneath Will’s hand.

 

_His face screwed up in pain as his gashes bled_

 

Will’s face scrunched and his mouth formed a perfect o as he struggled to breathe.

 

_“This is all I ever wanted for you. For us.”_

 

“You’re beautiful.”

 

_Will’s hands curled against Hannibal’s body and they leaned into each other_

 

Will clung tight to the planes of Hannibal’s back as they rocked together, ecstasy frying Will’s nerves.

 

_The moment they teetered at the cliff edge was an era in and of itself_

 

Hannibal murmured dark nothings in his ear and slowed his pace to a luxurious torture.

 

_The fall, the crash, the sensation of death... was beautiful, was like being remade anew_

 

Will heard the rush of wind in his ears and felt the weightlessly euphoric plummet as he came with a muffled groan, entwined with Hannibal so tightly it was impossible to tell there was a difference between them at all.

 

* * *

 

“You look exquisite.” Hannibal said from their bed, lounging naked on the mattress. Will leaned against the doorway to the balcony, hip cocked out and the bedsheet clutched in his hand, wrapped low around his waist. Cuban sunshine drenched Will in an unearthly glow as the gossamer curtains blew in the breeze. He huffed a laugh.

 

“Flattery is designed to help us get what we want. What is it that you want from me, Doctor Lecter?” Will asked with a coy look over his shoulder.

 

“I want for naught as long as you should choose to stay with me.” he replied simply, and Will had to turn back to face the ocean in order to hide his smirk.

 

Will had blossomed into a fantastical image of Hannibal’s own partial design after they fell. Hannibal was inclined to think that a little scrape with death did wonders. Will preferred to think maybe he was meant to be a little broken. Physically _and_ mentally.

 

“I suppose that’s fair.” Will mumbled. He dropped the sheet from his waist and turned back into the room, rifling through the bedside table before he procured a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He jammed one between his lips and clicked the lighter a few times before cupping the cigarette and lighting it. Hannibal gave a put upon sigh.

 

“That is supremely bad for your health, Will.” he said, and Will resumed his place at the porch doorway, only this time facing Hannibal.

 

“What’s wrong with a little inch closer to death when the devil and I are old friends?” he questioned, and Hannibal merely pursed his lips.

 

“If you’re to inch closer I’d prefer it be by my own hands.”

 

“You don’t own my mortality, Hannibal.” Will replied tiredly. He exhaled in a puff of smoke. “Besides, you know I don’t do it often.” Will said in reference to the smoking. He pinched the cigarette between his fingers and pointed it at Hannibal.

 

“You don’t have any regard for death. Why should I?” he asked flippantly before putting it back into his mouth and blowing smoke out from the corner of his lips.

 

Hannibal stretched against the sheets and Will eyed the miles of marble skin he was presented before Hannibal stood up and sauntered over to Will, seemingly looming over him. Will blinked, unimpressed.

 

“You are quite rare, mylimasis.” Hannibal hummed as he smoothed his hands down Will’s bare shoulders. Will tossed his cigarette down on the floor of the porch and crushed it under his toes before he wrapped his arms around Hannibal and pulled him close.

 

They held each other for a long time in silence, the only sound being the murmur of wind and wheeling of gulls.

 

Will sagged against the doorway and closed his eyes as he savored the feeling of Hannibal trapping him against the wall.

 

“My life was so much better before I met you.” Will lied, and Hannibal chuckled from where he’d tucked his head against Will’s pulse point. Will felt his hand trace across the scar on his stomach.

 

“Let me make it even worse.” Hannibal mumbled, and Will nodded.

 

* * *

 

_Bile burned his throat as he wrapped his hands around the man’s neck_

 

Hannibal watched as Will began to replicate the scars on his body and transpose them onto this man’s.

 

_This was the first time since Francis, since before... the end_

 

“A self portrait?” Hannibal asked, as he finally stepped forwards, and Will nodded mutely. Blood felt hot and sticky on his hand, and he knew how Hannibal hated when he got blood on his suit so he flicked a few drops on him out of spite. Served him right for not wearing the plastic cover, and for being some perfectly put together image, Will thought bitterly.

 

_He began to shake as he watched the life leave his eyes, and he felt the stab of arousal like a knife. “How very intimate.” Hannibal commented._

 

Hannibal helped him open up the corpse’s chest when he finally died and Will pried out the heart with his own hands. He gave it to Hannibal.

 

_Death was exhilarating and Will felt twitchy when his hands were pried from the lifeless body_

 

Hannibal squeezed it in his hand, blood frothing from the aortas and Will watched in macabre fascination. “Rather heavy handed, isn’t this?” Hannibal asked with a pale tint of amusement to his voice. Will licked his lips and tried to fight back laughter.

 

“You’re the one who’s gonna keep it.” he laughed. They smiled at each other, and Will rubbed his face against his sleeve before wiping his knife on his pants. “Let’s clean up and go home.” he conceded.

 

* * *

 

Something Will loved about living in Cuba was how colorful it was.

 

It was so... alive. And they could paint the sandy ground in different shades of red and death.

 

It really did start to become home for them. Hannibal liked to ride on his bike to go buy their groceries and bouquets of flowers. Will liked to sit on the porch of their small villa and read.

 

Will’s clothes flapped in the wind, strung up on a clothesline in their front yard. He watched them blow with a scowl, looking out at the horizon. A storm was blowing in from sea. Will hoped it wouldn’t be too bad.

 

“ _The tempest grows closer and the sailor opens his sails._ ” Hannibal quoted offhandedly. Will turned to look at him.

 

The wind tousled Will’s hair and he squinted at where Hannibal stood in the doorway, dropping his hands to his sides. He looked a little wild.

 

“ _The rain pours and the sailor drinks from the mouth of the beast_.” Will called back.

 

Hannibal turned to go inside and Will decided to follow, leaving his clothes to their fate as he went into their house for the time being. Hannibal wordlessly gave him a drawing and Will looked down.

 

On the paper was a vividly illustrated image of himself, dark and foreign and wrist-deep in Hannibal’s chest. In his illustrated hand, a heart dribbled red ink down the paper.

 


End file.
